


Ink and Paint

by peloquine



Series: Permanent Things [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Smut, tattoo porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peloquine/pseuds/peloquine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy and smutty drabbles from the same 'verse as "Things Under Your Skin".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unstatuesque

“Can you please lie still?” Nasir’s voice was edged with irritation.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Agron muttered. “I’m bored. I’m naked in the same room as you and I’m _bored_.”

“You volunteered.” Nasir didn’t even look at Agron; he knew he was pouting and that was something Nasir still after more than a year together had not learned to handle.

“Not to this!”

Nasir raised an eyebrow at him. “You thought that the sight of you naked would make me so crazy I forgot about my painting and just ravished you instead?” His voice was amused.

“Well, yeah!” Agron’s was not. If anything he sounded offended. “I’m hot! This…” he made a sweeping gesture to indicate his own body where he was arranged on the couch, “has at times even been referred to as _spectacular_ , by none other than yourself!”

“You are spectacular,” Nasir assured him. “You’re gorgeously, beautifully, spectacularly perfect and I want to capture it. Pay proper homage to it, if you will. To you.”

“You’re only using me for my body, aren’t you?” Agron muttered and slung an arm over his face.

“Agron!”

“Fucking fine.” He dropped it back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

Nasir was allowed to paint in peace for almost a whole minute.

“I’m cold.”

Nasir glanced at his groin. “You don’t look cold.”

“Hey! You know what you do to me when you’re wearing tank tops and braid your hair and doing artsy things! It’s not fair!”

“Agron, _please_. The light is perfect right now.”

Another couple of minutes passed. Nasir’s bottom lip was between his teeth and he was frowning as his brush moved in small, sweeping movements over the canvas, trying to capture the shadows decorating Agron’s body.

“Nasir,” Agron said after a while. “I haven’t touched you for _two_ hours.”

“One and a half, tops,” Nasir mumbled distractedly, his eyes shifting between Agron’s real and painted abdomen, trying to get his skin tone just right.

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever.”

“Mhm.” Nasir smoothed away a strand of hair from his face, accidentally smearing some paint of his cheek without really registering it. His tongue peaked out at the corner of his mouth as he leaned closer to the canvas, tracing the curve of Agron’s hip…

A sharp intake of breath had him look up, startled.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you _doing_?”

Agron’s voice was slightly breathless. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Nasir blinked at him. “But… I’m _painting_.”

“Yeah…” Agron let out a short, low moan, the hand wrapped around his cock moving faster. “Keep doing that. You look fucking hot.” His other hand was sliding up and down his torso, fingers lingering at one nipple.

Nasir’s mouth was going dry and his slacks uncomfortably tight.

Agron closed his eyes as his mouth fell open. Nasir could see how the muscles in his thighs and abdomen flexed and even if he guessed that was mostly theatrics it was hot as hell. He was shifting a little on the couch, rearranging himself, and the head of his cock was shining wet with pre-come.

Nasir licked his lips, staring dazedly.

“Nasir…” Agron’s voice was low and rough and fucking _dirty_. “Come here.”

Nasir blinked again, coming back to himself. He obliged; putting down his brush and palette and zipping his pants open as he took the few steps to the couch.

Agron pulled him down on top of him, awkwardly, but Nasir didn’t care about that. His pressed his mouth against Agron’s and the kiss was hot and needy, and he could already feel how the beat of his heart was speeding up.

Agron groaned beneath him, the hand not busy working at his cock desperately clutching at the back of Nasir’s shirt.

Nasir left his mouth to start working his way downwards, lips sliding and teeth nipping along his jawbone and down over his throat. He licked at his Adam’s apple, gently closing his teeth over it. Agron sighed. His hand left his cock to slip beneath the waistband of Nasir’s pants, groping at his ass.

Nasir reached Agron’s chest and instantly the tip of his tongue began following the swirl of black lines decorating it. Agron half-heartedly rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Even after more than a year, Nasir was as obsessed with his tattoos as the first time. He could and had spent hours tracing every line and curve of them, fucking _worshiping_ Agron’s inked skin with his hands and mouth and tongue. Agron had gotten Saxa to expand the tribal on his hip so it reached inwards towards his groin mainly for the pleasure of feeling Nasir’s tongue on it. Similarly, he had gotten a dragon on the inside of his left thigh after Nasir had jokingly complained about the lack of tattoos on his thighs. Nasir had taken care of that one for him – putting salve on it five times a day and effectively keeping Agron constantly hard. It was torture of the best kind.

“It’s my tattoos, isn’t?” Agron mumbled as his finger quickly dismantled Nasir’s braid. “The reason you love me?”

Nasir bit down on his skin, right at the edge of his chest panel. He hummed. His hands were stroking over Agron’s shoulders and arms, fingernails digging in. His mouth wandered again, tongue leaving a wet trail over Agron’s chest.

He breathed in the intoxicating smell of Agron, gasping into his skin. His fingers were tracing Agron’s abs, and his mouth closed around one of Agron’s nipples, sucking at it. His other hand was moving across the tattoo over his collarbone.

As Nasir brushed his lips across Agron’s nipple teasingly and Agron moaned low in his throat, Nasir resolved to never try to paint him again. _This_ – he pressed his nose into the hollow of Agron’s throat, breathing in – was real. _This_ – his lips tenderly kissed the paw prints on the inside of his arm and continuing downwards – was perfection. _This_ – his tongue was sliding along the branches of the tree stretching over Agron’s side, his tattoo, the one Agron made for him which was probably the most stupid and romantic thing ever – was not something that could ever be truly appreciated from afar or transferred to a canvas. This was life and real and _his_.

The curve of Agron’s hip slotted perfectly into his hand and the taste of pre-come was sharp and familiar on his tongue. Agron’s hand gripped his arms, fingertips moving over the colourful ink like he didn’t already know every inch and line of it.

The tattoo had been supposed to be a celebration and a remainder, something to give Nasir courage. Instead he got this – warm, beautiful skin beneath his hands; eager, hungry kisses to steal and give and take; a million sounds of pleasure and want to memorise and treasure; love as permanent and bold as black ink buried deep under the surface of skin.

“F-fuck, _yeah_ , baby,” Agron groaned. He was growing careless, hips moving and pushing himself deeper into Nasir’s mouth.

He let Agron tangle his hand into his hair and guide his mouth, closing his eyes and breathing heavily through his nose at the feel of Agron’s cock sliding hot against his tongue. Spit and pre-come dripped from his bottom lip and he held on to Agron’s hip and thigh, his grip bruising. There was a litany of filth and grunts spilling from Agron’s mouth, and Nasir couldn’t help but grin a little around Agron’s cock, as much as he could manage, but then Agron was suddenly coming, coming hard down his throat and he swallowed almost convulsively, greedily licking down every last drop.

He rested his head on Agron’s thigh, licking his swollen lips and trying to regain his breath. He shifted a little, pushing his nose into Agron’s pubic hair to smell him, because who the fuck needed to breathe properly anyway.

“Nasir?”

“Hm?”

“Did you come in your pants?”

Nasir could feel his cheeks burn a little. “…maybe.”

“You’re fucking amazing.” Agron pulled him up by his arms and kissed him hotly. Then Nasir suddenly found himself on his back, with his pants and boxer briefs around his ankles and Agron enthusiastically cleaning him up with his tongue.

“Yeah,” Nasir murmured once he was done and had laid his head down on Nasir’s stomach, hands leisurely stroking his sides, “it’s definitely your tattoos.” He smiled down at Agron as he looked up at him and dragged one fingertip down his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Agron said. “I can lay still for you now, if you want me to.”

“No,” Nasir said, fingers threading through Agron’s hair, “it’s okay.”

“I can be still, I promise. I’ll be like a fucking statue and let you paint away.”

“Agron, it’s fine.”

“But I can…”

Nasir hauled him up by his hair, not especially gently, and kissed him shut. “It’s fine, okay?”

Agron pouted a little. “Thought you wanted to pay homage to my perfect body,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Nasir grabbed Agron’s arm and pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss against his inked wrist. “It’s better this way.”


	2. Paint Stains

“Seriously, do you have some kind of paint kink?”

Agron huffed, and the feel of it against his neck sent a shiver through Nasir’s body. “Don’t even get me started, ink-pervert. And I don’t have a paint kink – I have a you-kink. A Nasir Hakim-kink.”

“Is that sweet talk or dirty talk?” Nasir muttered. “Either way it’s bad.” He tried to manoeuver the hand holding the paintbrush around Agron’s octopus embrace, sighing as he couldn’t get the angle quite right. “Agron.”

“Love you,” Agron mumbled into his neck.

“Stop it,” Nasir muttered as Agron’s lips trailed up to behind his ear before he bit down on his earlobe, knowing exactly what that did to Nasir. “We need to leave for Liesel’s birthday party in half an hour.”

“I’m pretty sure I can rock your would in under thirty minutes,” Agron said, sounding smug. He licked a sensitive spot on Nasir’s neck, making him gasp.

“Fucker,” Nasir muttered. “I need to shower, we need to get dressed, and have you wrapped her present yet?”

“We can be late.”

“Duro will kill us.”

“I can handle Duro.”

“Liesel will kill us.”

“I’m not listening to you anymore,” Agron said, pulling Nasir’s shirt over his head. “I’m going to fuck you.” One hand found its way into Nasir’s sweats. Agron hummed, sounding pleased. “Your cock doesn’t seem to care about being late.”

“I hate you,” Nasir said. “I utterly and completely despise you. You’re ruining my life. Before I met you, I had self-control, I was always on time, and… and…” He trailed off as Agron’s mouth sucked a mark into his shoulder as he started to stroke his cock. His own erection was pressing against Nasir’s ass, leaking and heavy.

“So, in other words, I made your life worth living.”

“Could you be more smug?” Nasir complained as he let himself be dragged into the bedroom. He had tried to resist. He truly had.

-

“You’re late.” Duro met them at the door, arms crossed and radiating judgement. “The birthday girl’s uncles are late to her party because they were to _busy having sex_.” The last part he shout-whispered, probably to make sure no one else overheard. “Didn’t you get my text, Agron? I told you that I would skin you both alive if you were late because of _sex_.”

“There was a traffic jam,” Agron said and if Nasir didn’t know that Agron was completely unable to hide anything from him, he would have been slightly worried by the ease with which Agron lied to his brother.

Duro’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Nasir, whom he still, for some unfathomable reason, trusted.

“Traffic jam,” Nasir confirmed, probably condemning himself to an eternity in hell in the process.

“Fine.” Duro sighed, apparently fooled. “Come on in.”

They took off their coats and shoes and were ushered into the living room where their friends, all the Vogts currently living in America, and Liesel’s friends and their parents were gathered. The whole room was decorated with garlands and balloon and a table was covered with gifts and colourful wrappings. The children were dressed up in fanciful costumes. It looked like a rainbow had thrown up over the room.

“Uncle Agron! Nasir!” Liesel was running towards Agron even before he got through the door and he bent to pick her up, his tee hiking up slightly.

“Traffic jam, my ass!” Duro suddenly roared, causing the whole room to fall silent and stare at him.

“What?” Agron turned, Liesel in his arms.

“You are a horrible human being!” Duro looked at Nasir, who was trying not to look too guilty. “And so are you!”

“There was a traffic jam!” Agron was opting for outraged, trying to salvage the situation.

“And how, if I may ask, did a _traffic jam_ get you Nasir’s hand print in green right above your ass?”

Agron opened his mouth to reply and then closed it just as quickly. His hand went around to the small of his back, feeling the dried paint beneath his fingers. “Oh. Ops.” He at least tried to look contrite.

Nasir considered melting through the floor in shame. The whole room was staring at them. Gannicus, Crixus and Mira were trying vey hard to keep from exploding with laughter, by the look of them.

“Um. Sorry?” Agron tried to appease his brother.

“Seriously, are you teenagers? You are respectively thirty and twenty-six years old! Stop acting like…”

“Vati!” Liesel interrupted impatiently. “He said sorry!”

Liesel just doubled the already crazy amount of gifts Agron would get her for Christmas. That was probably partly the reason why she always had her uncle’s back. Nasir couldn’t help but smile.

Duro, who apparently did not want to argue with his daughter on her birthday, gave Agron and Nasir one final glare.

“You’re not getting any cake,” he informed them before turning towards the other, slightly gobsmacked, guests, plastering on a smile. “Okay, time to open the gifts!”

“You have paint here too,” Liesel said to Agron, poking the side of his neck, giggling like it was a secret. “Blue. Don’t you have a colour-book, Nasir? You can borrow one of mine, if you want.”

“That’s… very kind of you,” Nasir mumbled. One of these days he was going to be able to look Agron’s family in the eye. Just not today. Either. 


	3. Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasir creates a mess. And ties Agron up. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote most of this in the latest hour and half and just wanted to get done with it so there might be some (or a lot) of errors. If there's something especially grievous, please point it out. If not, then just enjoy. :)

Agron dragged himself up the last few steps of the stairs and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. Once he reached the door, he found that it was already unlocked. Knowing that Nasir was home made the remainder of his day seem a lot less shitty. He needed a new job. Preferably one where he could stay curled around his boyfriend in bed and never have to get up ever again.

 “I’m home!” he called, even though he knew that Nasir had probably already heard him stumble inside and kick of his shoes. He dumped his bag and jacket on the floor, not caring that Dimey would end up using either or both as a chew toy before he remembered to pick them up.

No answer.

“Honey?”

Then warm arms were wrapped around his waist. “Close your eyes,” Nasir breathed against his neck, hands slipping beneath his t-shirt to caress the skin beneath.

“Nasir…” He felt like a wrung out dishcloth. He wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of sex, but he wouldn’t be much fun right now.

“Please.” Warm lips drabbled kisses over the side of his neck and up over his jawline.

Agron complied.

Nasir led him carefully into the bedroom and made him lie down on his back on the bed before quickly and efficiently divesting him off all his clothes. Agron was a bit confused – Nasir was gentle but methodical and the situation didn’t exactly screa sexiness. He still kept his eyes closed throughout.

“Rough day?” Nasir’s fingers were working his shoulders, his lips pressing a succession of quick kisses against Agron’s.

“Yeah.”

“Better now?”

Agron smiled as he felt Nasir straddling him, his hands going up to cup his hips. “A lot. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Soon.” There was a rustle of cloth. “Okay if I tie you up?”

Agron’s cock had despite his weariness taken a moderate interest in the proceedings, but now it was suddenly all for sexy times.

“Yeah.” He imagined how Nasir smirked at the sudden breathlessness in his voice.

Nasir was careful with him as he wound the soft cloth around his wrists and tied the ends to the headboard. The first time they’d done this had left Agron’s wrists chafed and raw. He hadn’t even noticed himself, but Nasir had thoroughly kissed it better afterwards and then, much later, went out and bought silk. The material was cool and felt sensual against his skin.

Nasir sat back again, dragging his hands down Agron’s chest and torso. It was exhilarating to keep his eyes closed as he could feel Nasir’s rove over his body in the wake of his hands, imagining how he looked to him all stretched out on the bed like an offering. It was an incredible turn-on.

His cock was rock-hard and dripping by now and his tiredness gone as if it never was.

“Open your eyes.”

He did and Nasir’s face was inches away from his own, bending down to kiss him hard and voraciously.

Then he sat up and reached for something on the nightstand. He brought is hand back into Agron’s field of view, smirking and looking very pleased with himself. Agron narrowed his eyes at the plastic jar Nasir was holding.

“Body paint,” Nasir said, his smile widening as understanding dawned in Agron’s eyes.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Agron said. He could feel himself flushing with arousal, the faint redness spreading down his neck, over his chest.

That earned him another kiss, sloppy and open-mouthed, Nasir’s teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

“What colours do you have?” Agron murmured against his lips, intrigued. Sex would never get boring with Nasir.

“Blue, green, purple, and some orange,” Nasir answered, sitting back up on Agron’s lower stomach. “You want me to use a brush or fingers?”

Agron raised his eyebrows. “How is that even a question?”

“It’ll get more even with a brush.”

Agron groaned, because of course Nasir had no plan of haphazardly dabbling colour on him like any normal human being would when equipped with body paint and with their boyfriend’s naked body at their disposal. Nasir had to do this for fucking real, damn perfectionist as he was.

“You’re going to kill me,” Agron complained. “Actually _kill me dead_. Dead by cockteasing, painting, evil boyfriend.”

Nasir ignored him, opting instead for screwing the caps of the paint jars, and when he has dipped his fingers into the blue paint and drawn a line across his pectoral, outlining the chest panel, Agron instantly shut up.

If it was something that never failed to make him jealous, it was the wholeheartedly and passionate way with which Nasir threw himself into his art projects. Whenever he was really engrossed in something, it was like he completely forgot about Agron’s existence. Or, rather, everything that wasn’t what he was currently pouring his soul into, but still. It was a part of Nasir that Agron had no access to, something that was no one else’s but Nasir’s, something he didn’t share with anyone. When he had done the tattoo on his side he had been half-afraid that Nasir would get upset, not because of the obvious reasons like how it was a stupid fucking thing to do, but because maybe he would think that Agron was trying to steal that from him, or insinuate himself into that part of his life without permission. But Nasir loved it. His hands always found their way to it, worshipping it, following every line with reverence, like he couldn’t really believe that it was real, that his painting was forever trapped in stark contrast beneath Agron’s pale skin.

Nasir was gone, lost in the swirl of colour and black ink, his eyes firmly fixed on the movements of his hand and what they created. Agron couldn’t see much of it, so he focused on Nasir’s beautiful face instead. His brow was creased in concentration, his hair spilling forth over his shoulders, a few strands caught at the corner of his mouth, his tongue peaking out between rosy lips.

Agron was nothing but a canvas to him there and then, just a medium for him to bring out whatever it was he saw in his mind. He was flesh and bones, muscle and shadows, skin more black than white. He wondered fleetingly if he ought of feel used, but couldn’t. Having Nasir utterly and completely focused on him in the way he only focused on his art, the tantalizing drag of wet, cold paint over his heated skin, Nasir shifting position occasionally, his ass moving against Agron’s hard cock was nothing but the best kind of torture. Nasir was hard too, pre-come soaking the front of his boxer briefs and Agron wanted to be freed from his restraints to that he could see how little it would take to break Nasir’s concentration, to bring him back to him, while at the same time wishing for this to never end, to lie still and silent on the bed and just observe and feel as Nasir did his magic.

That was what it felt like. Magic. Nasir’ fingers left his skin tingling and the atmosphere in the bedroom was charged with something more than the usual heady mix of lovelustneedpassion, something new and exhilarating.

Nasir moved down to straddle his thighs, right above his knees, and Agron couldn’t help but keen as he slid against his cock even as he bit his lip to keep any sounds in. Nasir looked up at him, giving him a distracted smile, before dipping down to lick up the pre-come pooling beneath Agron’s belly button. Agron wormed on the bed, panting, turned on beyond fucking belief.

Nasir’s tongue was replaced by his fingers, tracing an intricate design in purple, his wrist brushing against the head of Agron’s erection with every movement. Agron had completely given up on being silent, moans and curses spilling from his mouth along with every heavy breath, even as he was contemplating the merits of getting that particular area inked. Preferably yesterday.

Nasir’s hand was suddenly on his untattooed thigh, fingers mimicking claws and leaving three bright streaks of orange behind.

“Nasir,” Agron choked out, throat dry and the want pounding in his veins like a trampling beast. “… _schatz_.”

And Nasir looked up at him – and, fuck, those dark eyes, pupils blown and widened with desire – and he was suddenly _there_ and near and all Agron’s.

Nasir’s fingers left smears of paint all over his chin and jaw as his hands gripped him and he kissed him, Agron chasing the taste of him like he would die without it.

“Tell me what you need, Agron,” Nasir murmured against his mouth, breath searing, hands scrabbling to grip at Agron’s biceps.

“You,” he managed to get out. “However. Just… something.” He was tugging at the bonds, wanting his hands all over Nasir, wanting Nasir all over him, wanting, wanting, wanting so hard he would break apart from it all.

“Should I…?” Nasir was already moving to undo the knots.

“No.” However much he wanted to touch all over, he wanted this more; Nasir on top of him, in full control. He bucked at the thought.

“Shit,” Nasir groaned, hands scrabbling to get a piece of cloth of the nightstand. He wiped his hands quickly before getting the lube and then it was just a matter of seconds before he was preparing himself, quickly and efficiently. Agron idly considered telling him that he probably should have washed his hands first, but the thought was gone before it had really registered.

And then Nasir was straddling his hips again, sinking down, a bit too tight for it to go smoothly, but still so fucking good that Agron literally could feel his eyes rolling back into his head as Nasir took all of him in. He had to force himself to look at Nasir, catch his beautiful eyes as he adjusted on top of him, gasping out something that might have been Agron’s name with each breath.

“Wait,” Agron gasped as Nasir’s hands came down to hold on to him. “You’ll ruin…”

“I don’t fucking _care_ ,” Nasir snarled, nails raking through the partially dried paint on Agron’s torso, leaving ragged lines behind in the vibrant hues. “Fuck, Agron, I…” He trailed off, slamming both his hands down on Agron’s chest, smearing hand prints into the mess that his body was quickly becoming and suddenly moving, fucking himself hard on Agron’s cock. Agron thrust back, almost brutally, both of them too far gone for finesse or gentleness.

Agron came explosively and embarrassingly fast as Nasir leaned down, bending him inside him, and kissed him, sloppily and dirty, nails once again raking over his chest.

“Fuck, sorry, I just, holy fucking hell, that was, oh crap, sorry,” he rambled as he emptied himself inside Nasir, his whole body shaking, because that couldn’t even have lasted three whole minutes and Nasir was still hard as a rock, desperate to come.

But he just shook his head, raven hair catching on to his sweaty neck and shoulders, and took himself in his hand, still full of Agron, jerking himself off quickly and coming all over Agron’s chest and stomach, a few drops even hitting Agron’s neck and chin, before he crumbled down on top of him.

He lay there, breathing heavily against Agron’s neck, for a couple of minutes before reaching up and undoing the restraints, weakly throwing the silk away. Agron’s arms went around him, hugging him close and inadvertently smearing come and paint all over him as well.

Messy didn’t even begin to describe it.

“So,” Nasir said, still slightly breathless, after a long, long while, “guess who’s never again going to be able to use blue, purple, green and orange without getting hard?”

Agron just hummed, too pleased and fucked out to even attempt to get smug about it.


	4. Shiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glittering, edible body paint is probably something that only exists in Nagronland. I am not sorry.

“Dimey, give ball!” Liesel giggled, trying to dislodge the colourful ball from between Dimebag’s jaws without much success. The dog shook her off easily and was off into the bedroom, Liesel following, and almost, but not quite, managing to grab hold of his waggling tail.

Her laughter and shrieks of glee together with Dimey’s playful growls could be heard all the way in the living room. Agron and Nasir smiled while Duro looked slightly anxious, because he was the worst father hen ever.

“He’s not going to eat her,” Agron said from where he was trying to install their new sound system. Fucking wires. “She doesn’t smell bad enough. He likes shoes and sweaty t-shirts, that sort of thing, not newly-bathed children.”

Duro opened his mouth to reply, when a dull thump was heard from the bedroom, followed by complete silence. In an instant the father hen was up, because obviously kids can die from like bumping their knee or something. Agron promptly refrained reflecting over the fact that he was up less than a second after Duro, Nasir hot on his heels.

“What happened?” Duro asked when he reached the room, where both Liesel and Dimey were still very much alive, the former looking a little sheepish and the later lolling his tongue, not caring in the slightest about the people rushing into the bedroom.

“The ball knocked over a box under the bed,” Liesel said. “Sorry,” she added to Agron and Nasir before grabbing hold off something and holding it up to her dad, “Can I play with this?”

Duro’s gaze travelled from the object in her hand through the mess of things spread over the carpet, eyes going comically wide as he took in the body paint, the silk ties, the handcuffs and the blindfold.

“No,” he said firmly, snatching the jar of body paint from her hand like he was afraid she would hurt herself on it. “Go out in the living room and play!”

Liesel stamped her foot. “But it has _glitter_.”

“ _Now_.”

Duro waited until Liesel was out into the next room with Dimey before turning to glare at Agron and Nasir.

Agron wondered how this had even happened – one day Duro was the younger brother Agron constantly had to save from all the scraps his crazy ideas got him into, and the next he was the younger brother who could make him feel ashamed and defiant and amused all at once with just one pointed, judging look.

“ _Glitter paint_? Seriously?” The hand that was not currently occupied with waving the offending jar to emphasise his point went up to rub between Duro’s eyes before he started laughing. It sounded more hysterical than amused. “How gay _are_ you guys?”

“It’s not the glitter that makes us gay, but what we do with it, if you know what I mean,” Agron said, crossing his arms over his chest, both smug – because glitter-sex was freaking _awesome_ – and a little outraged at Duro’s idiocy.

Nasir elbowed him in the ribs, blushing furiously. Agron felt rather sorry for him – Nasir was not comfortable with how much Agron’s family and Duro in particular knew about their sex life. Agron had tried being more careful, but it was hard. Nasir had seen himself, right?

Duro stared at them, shaking the jar. Agron wondered a little concernedly if he’d fastened the lid properly the last time they’d used it. Having a glitter explosion all over the bedroom carpet would not be fun. Shit got _everywhere_. Also, the jar was already kind of low, and the shipping took at least two weeks. And it wasn’t exactly cheap.

“But glitter, seriously?” Duro shook the jar more vigorously. “ _Glitter_? Were you, like, bored one night or something and thought, hey, guess what’ll spice our sex life up? Glitter! _Glitter_?!”

“Are you going into shock or something?” Agron asked guardedly. “You’ve said ‘glitter’ about a hundred times now. What’s the big deal?”

Duro caught sight of the writing on the jar. “Edible? EDIBLE? What the fuck is the matter with you two freaks? Do you… EW!” Apparently presented with some mental image that was suddenly too much or finally figuring out in exactly how close proximity that jar had been to his brother and his brother’s boyfriend’s junk upon occasion, Duro dropped it.

“Don’t…!” Agron yelled at the same time as Liesel clamoured into the bedroom, with Dimey trotting behind her, calling for Duro, but it was too late. The jar hit the floor and erupted.

Fucking. Glitter. Everywhere.

Liesel squealed and Dimey barked, and before anyone had time to stop either of them, they were both diving headfirst onto the carpet, happily rolling around in the sticky, shimmering mess.

Duro stared shell-shocked at it for a minute before snapping his head up and glowering at Agron and Nasir, who had tried to inch their way out of the room without him noticing.

Agron held up his hands defensively before him. “Do not blame me for this,” he said. “It’s all _your_ fault.” It _was_.

“Glitter, Vati! Look! Glitter, glitter, glitter!” Liesel chanted, holding up her silver-smeared palms for Duro to look at.

“Oh, god, that’s just… Ew, EW, _EW_!” He turned back to Agron and Nasir again, who had almost made it all the way to the bedroom room this time. “I hate you both. If you ever have children, and they come to me at the age of ten and beg me to give them tattoos, I will fucking oblige them, okay? They will all have full fucking sleeves before they are fifteen! You get that?”

“ _Fuckin_ ’glitter!” Liesel yelled, giggling like crazy, and Duro looked murderous.

Dimey got up, his black coat shining, and rubbed against the dresser in an attempt to get the stickiness out of his fur.

Glitter. Fucking. Everywhere.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Agron told his brother sternly, ignoring his fuming, because this was _not_ Agron’s fault. He had the higher ground here. It should be perfectly okay for him and the love of his life to keep glitter paint intended for sex under their own bed without his brother throwing a fit. Duro had once sent him a video clip Agron had very, very, very much not wanted to see by mistake and Agron had had nightmares for _weeks_ about his brother and sister-in-law, so he could just shut the fuck up. And start cleaning.

Duro grumbled and cursed some more, but eventually did while Nasir gave Liesel another bath and Agron hunted Dimey down and threw him into the tub once they were done.

Even though they had to throw the carpet out and it took him over an hour to get Dimebag’s fur clean he still counted it as a victory over Duro, who spent twice that time scrubbing the floorboards and the dresser in their bedroom. 

-

“Come on!” Nasir murmured feverishly, making grabby hands for him. “Get back up here!”

Agron grinned as he climbed back up on the bed, sloppily kissing Nasir’s lower stomach and slipping his tongue into his belly-button, causing him to groan and writhe.

Agron thrust the jar into Nasir’s hand and stretched out to lie on his back as Nasir unscrewed the cap and dipped two fingers in the shiny, glittering mess. He accidentally dipped the tip of his pony-tail in the jar and pulled it out, silver-sheened. He laughed a little and moved to smear his fingers against the hollow of Agron’s throat, decorating his already sweat-slicked skin, before pressing his whole palm against his own chest and dragging glitter all over it.

Agron frowned a little at the sight. Usually he found Nasir’s skin shimmering in the half-dusk of their bedroom a turn-on, but now he mostly felt irritated and a little embarrassed.

There was still glitter in between the floorboards and the drain had clogged up from all the paint they had washed out of Liesel’s hair and Dimey’s fur.

Fucking Duro.

Agron moaned as Nasir’s hand closed around his cock, realising that he had gotten so lost in his train of thought that he hadn’t even been aware what Nasir was doing. Nasir had left a palm-print on Agron’s stomach and it shone as he shifted his hips. Just like his socks did when he took them off at night after walking over their bedroom floor.

What the fuck.

“Agron?” Nasir was bending down over him and frowning, his silver-tipped hair moving across Agron’s shoulder. “Are you even with me?” There was a streak of silver across his cheekbone.

Fucking glitter.

Agron groaned.

Fucking. Duro. He’d _ruined_ it.

“I hate my brother,” Agron muttered and Nasir looked very confused.

Fucking hell. That bastard had been made to clean their entire bedroom off glitter paint and had _still_ won. Not fucking _fair_.

He was so sending Duro one of their sex tapes after this, even though Nasir would get horribly mad at him for it.

“Are you seriously thinking about that now?” Nasir sounded frustrated and put off.

“He ruined it,” Agron whined petulantly.

“No,” Nasir told him viciously, clamping down his hands around Agron’s wrists and dragging them up to his head. “He didn’t.”

Agron reached up as Nasir bent down, his breath ghosting hotly over his mouth. Nasir rolled his hips against him. Oh, yeah. “He didn’t?” Agron panted, wide-eyed and suddenly very turned on again.

“No,” Nasir said determinedly and bit down on Agron’s lip as he rolled his hips again. “He did _not_.”

It wasn’t like Agron was going to argue with that.


End file.
